Dear Friends and Family, Is it possible do you think that in the whole swirling fiery process of creation a tiny chunk of 99.9% pure goodness could remain concentrated like a lump of sugar in the cake batter? Could this extra special lump of love and loveliness then end up deposited out of reach, unknown and untouched by the world during its long millennia of evolution and painful struggle to grow up? And could this bit of matter even now out of reach of planes and trains and most commercial yachts therefore remain pristine and primitive and quietly powerful? IF this were indeed possible, it might explain the existence and the effect of a very special place called Suwarrow. Suwarrow . Mere mention of the name evokes within me warm and fuzzy feelings. Suwarrow is a tiny place, an atoll in the middle of nowhere. Even the people who live in places which most Americans and Europeans think of as "out in the middle of nowhere" think of Suwarrow as "definitely out in the middle of nowhere". Once a remarkable man by the name of Tom Neil lived as a hermit on the atoll for many years and his book "An Island to Oneself" is an interesting read, but now no one really lives there except two park rangers who spend half the year camping on site protecting Suwarrow's resources from those who would travel far to ravage her. But the park rangers are more than mere protectors. While anchored in the lagoon at Suwarrow I sometimes wondered what the job description or required skill set would be for these rangers. I know they must have great people skills, learn something of the local flora and fauna, be able to drive a boat through treacherous surf and coral, wield a machete with ease, know their personal cultural history including language, dance and music, sing or play an instrument, know gourmet cooking techniques for wild game and have basic gardening skills, radio operation skills and be competent rule enforcers to name a few. The rangers we met, Harry and Antz, were camping in rude structures and cooking over open fires for the most part. They had been boated out and dropped off with apparently a large bag of rice, a metal skiff, insufficient fuel to run the skiff, a radio which often doesn't work, matches, a simple first aid kit and little else to fend for themselves. The only water supply is rain catch. The supply ship was supposed to return with more but never did. This is true survival living. Since May they have been eating fish with rice, rice with fish, fish with fish and rice with rice, fried, grilled, curried and plain, white fish, red fish, reef fish, sea fish...You might say they have been eating fish and lots of it. Thank goodness cruisers have arrived in droves this year ready to party and potluck after a long passage from French Polynesia. So it's not surprising that the ranger rules and regs talk includes the advice that cruisers are welcome to plan potlucks on the beach and also welcome to invite the rangers-that is as long as they are not serving fish. And potluck we did. The beach is warm and inviting, well raked and hung with hammocks in the shade of sweeping coconut palms. Large metal 50 gallon barrels serve as BBQ pits and a picnic table sheltered by a thatched hut makes a convenient buffet. Harry plays the guitar beautifully and Antz is a wonderful singer and harmonizer. The beach is strewn with firewood and lined with palms while the water's edge is lined with watchful sharks mostly the blacktip reef sharks with a few white tips and silkies and nurse sharks thrown in for good measure. We enjoyed potlucks almost every night during our 2 week stay and when the eating was done, the clean-up crew composed of hundreds of hermit crabs the size of a toddler's fist would scuttle out unbidden to pick up all the crumbs while we sat around the fire singing ourselves giddy accompanied by waves lapping on the sand and framed by the tall slender trunks of palms silhouetted by the rising moon. Sometimes scraps were gathered to feed the sharks who obliged the onlookers with little feeding frenzies and even good naturedly allowed people to pick them up by their long fleshy tails. Suwarrow is where I finally met the legendary Coconut Crab. He is very large, thick and compact in the middle and oddly spidery in appearance especially because of the unexpected addition of a soft unprotected abdomen which he keeps tucked beneath his body. He doesn't look like a crab or like a lobster but rather like a cross between the two. He doesn't look very appetizing. A friend mentioned an idea that the coconut crab may have evolved from the similarly large clawed, long legged and soft bodied common hermit crab but then grew so large as to make it impractical for him to find a shell to use as a house and to protect his soft abdomen. He is somewhat reminiscent of a creature from a Jules Verne novel. The coconut crabs live on shore under rocks or in hollow logs of the jungle dining on the fallen coconuts as do many of the other crabs. Some say the Coconut Crabs actually climb up the tall palm trunk and snip the coconuts from the tree tops. Others say they have seen a coconut crab so big that he reached up the side of a garbage can, pried the lid off with his strong claw and partook of the leftovers previously concealed within. I know from personal observation that the claws are very strong. If he clamps onto a stick you can lift the entire crab up by one claw-that is if he doesn't snap the stick in two with his powerful grasp. You probably know the old saying "crabs walk sideways and lobsters walk straight"-now we must add to that "coconut crabs walk backwards" and they can do it quickly. They demonstrate a variety of colors with exoskeletons of deep purple, indigo and blue to red contrasted by the spider like furry black abdomen. Some people say they taste exponentially better than lobster when roasted unseasoned over an open flame on the beach. They once were very common but now are somewhat endangered because they are so easy to catch and reproduce and grow slowly. The coconut crabs of Suwarrow enjoy the ranger's protection. Although many of our friends were introduced to the Napoleon or "bump head" wrasse at Faka Rava in the Tuamotu, we met our first oversized reef fish the size of a small car door here at Suwarrow. We also saw many sharks, turtles and giant mantas. In fact there is a joke that each boat at anchor has at least two pet sharks. The sharks hover night and day (perhaps having been fed in the past by fishing boats which illegally harvest from the island during the off season) and demonstrate a persistent and occasionally un-nerving degree of curiosity. Also swimming amongst the boats were two sea turtles, one large and one small quietly feeding and probably enjoying the food stirred up by the movement of anchor chains against the coral. The giant mantas are quite accustomed to visitors and are agreeable and even inquisitive themselves. A wrasse cleaning station in relatively shallow water is marked by a mooring ball for dinghies and the mantas can most always be found lounging about nearby, mouths gaping open and full of tiny fish busily cleaning. One day I went for a visit with my scuba tanks and sat on the bottom enjoying the mantas. Upon noticing that they seemed to circle a large shallow balmy (coral head) nearby, I swam slowly to the balmy circling the opposite direction so that eventually the manta and I would come upon each other head to head. The manta however saw through my plan and stopped on the backside of the balmy hiding himself as effectively as a fat bear behind a thin aspen trunk. I stopped directly across from him and we both waited. Then ever so slowly I pulled myself along the bottom counter clockwise along the perimeter of the balmy. Before I had gone more than a few feet I was surprised to see that the manta had done the same slipping ever so quietly circumferentially forward to meet me. Now we were nose to nose. I turned sideways showing him my belly which is something mantas have done to me I believe as a sign of trust. He slid silently over me gazing steadily at me with his soft eye and back into stop position at the opposite side where this had all begun. I slipped back into my start position and we repeated the game. We played several rounds and although I couldn't hear the manta giggling I did notice the feeding scoops on the front of his head to each side of his mouth which appear firm but are actually quite soft and flexible had curled up into ringlets. Perhaps this is the equivalent of a manta smile. I know I was smiling. Alongside the wildlife it is the collective interaction of cruisers and park rangers which forms the core of the warm fuzzy feeling I experience when thinking of Suwarrow. The rangers on first meeting seemed friendly but reserved and capable and fair. As we got to know them better we came to appreciate them as representatives of two cultures very different from our own. These differences in history and perspective run very deep and fascinate me. Most evident was a change that came over each ranger while performing their introductory welcoming speeches complete with culturally specific facial expressions, oration styles and gestures. The greetings themselves were beautifully delivered but most striking was the transformation we witnessed as each ranger peeled back imposed conventions and allowed his Cook or Maori self to shine. It was as though a little pilot light burning occult within had just burst into full broiling flame. Light came into their faces. Pride shone in their eyes. Strength emanated from their stance and speech. Hands slapped. Eyes rolled. Throats growled. Tongues protruded. Legs pranced. It was magnificent and I realized in that moment how essential it is not only to preserve the cultural history of these islands and their people but to pass it on in living form to island youth so they understand not only from whence they came but in truth who they are. All is well as we continue to savor the gift of Suwarrow. Pat and John and Sushi S/V The Rose en route to the next adventure.